


Strange Magic

by Honorificabilitudinitatibus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Found Family Feels, Give them some time, Jareth is protective of children, Jareth puts the fear of God and Goblins into the Dursleys, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall has had it up to HERE with you people, Sarah is the coolest of cool aunts, Slow Burn, Snarky Malfoys, The slowest, far too many goblins to be tasteful, it's his job, literally they're children when this starts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-05-14 22:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honorificabilitudinitatibus/pseuds/Honorificabilitudinitatibus
Summary: Hermione has always known about goblins. They’ve always been at the periphery of her life- making mischief or keeping her company when she’s lonely. She knew that the goblins had a king, and probably should have realized that that king was her favorite, snarky Uncle J.Harry, Ron, and Hermione go through Hogwarts under the protection of the Goblin King, and everything is just a little bit better for it.OR The one where Sarah Williams is the world’s coolest aunt and actual Goblin Queen; Jareth is very protective of kids, and puts the fear of god and goblins into the Dursleys; and Draco Malfoy is a little shit, but he gets better.





	1. You Remind me of the Babe

**Author's Note:**

> In which Elain Granger, née Williams, recalls her childhood with the future goblin monarch, and reflects that it shouldn’t really have surprised anyone when Hermione turned out to be a witch.

Hermione Granger had never been destined to be a normal little girl, but perhaps that was less of a surprise to her mother than she might have expected. Elain Granger, née Williams’ life, after all, had never been quite as normal as they might have hoped for.  
Elain had been nine years old when her younger sister came, kicking and screaming, into the world, and life after that was richer, and more vibrant, but stretched the limits of possibility to a considerable degree. 

Sarah Williams was a precocious, dark-haired child, with a strong will and an imagination that Elain could barely keep up with, and strange things were always happening around the girl. Their father noticed, but didn’t seem overtly perturbed, and their mother- wrapped up in herself as she was- ran off before truly odd things started happening around Sarah. Elain had been left to pick up the pieces- comforting a stressed father, and an angry, confused Sarah. And when Sarah was hurt, or emotional, odd things seemed to happen around the girl.

Once, Elain had witnessed her younger sister fall from the tallest branch of a tree, only to giggle, entirely unharmed, when Elain had run over to see if she was alright. Not even a scratch marred her skin, and her too-bright eyes had glinted with mirth. When they had taken a family trip to Seaworld, Sarah had been inconsolable when she learned that manatees often fell victim to speedboat motors, leaving long gashes on the backs of the slow-moving creatures. The next day, Elain caught a snippet on the news, where a local fisherman was furiously claiming that someone had broken into the shipyard and stolen the props from at least 25 speedboats. 

As far as she could tell, Sarah had no idea what had happened, but she watched her sister closely after that. Sometimes, Sarah’s whims were kind, as with the manatees. Elain would have admitted, however, to worrying what would happen when Sarah wanted something slightly less altruistic. 

Things would move around her sister- but her father didn’t notice, and Sarah didn’t seem to notice her own effect on the world around her. Things would rearrange themselves around Sarah to the point where it didn’t just seem to be luck anymore. She had a way of talking people into participating in her fantasy games and worlds to the point where you began to believe there was something real about them, and Elain hadn’t been surprised when Sarah picked up writing as a hobby. She had a gift for bringing false worlds alive, certainly. 

The barn owl that would sit outside the Williams’ home during the daytime was considerably more unnerving than any of Sarah’s games, but Elain had been assured by the local wildlife rescue group that barn owls were found just about everywhere in the world, and so she tried to tamp down on her unease when the creature would stare at them in the daylight.

Elain had thought it odd, but loved Sarah dearly, and her sister was sweet enough that it was easy to forget the otherworldly look that her eyes could carry. Even if Sarah was a bit odd, she was her sister, and Elain loved her dearly. So she helped their father out as often as she could when Linda Williams left them, and gladly took part in Sarah’s games of make-believe, and she did her best to be welcoming and kind when their father remarried and Toby came along. 

Karen was a perfectly nice woman, if a bit unsure how to handle two teenage stepdaughters, but Elain had forged a tentative friendship with the woman, likely made easier by her departure for college the year after Karen and her father had gotten married. Elain hadn’t wanted to leave Sarah- who seemed to view Karen as the living embodiment of a wicked stepmother- despite Elain’s pleas to the contrary- but it had been unavoidable in the long run. Elain adored toby, but was careful not to dote on him too much, especially around Sarah.

And yet, Sarah seemed to grow more and more resentful of Karen and their father, and Toby in turn, and Elain felt like every time she came home from school, she was merely cleaning up messes. After one disastrous spring break, which had left Elain in tears on her drive back to school, she had nearly not returned for the summer, not wanting a repeat of the arguments with Sarah and her parents.

The oddest thing happened, though, after that particular break. The next weekend she had come home, Sarah hadn’t been affectionate to Karen, per se, but had been civil, and had agreed to babysit Toby after being asked only once. Once Elain had picked her jaw up off the floor, she started to see even more signs that something was different- Sarah was more self-assured- a little more willing to see things from a different point of view, and seemed to have lost the selfishness that accompanied childhood whims, leaving a more thoughtful girl in it’s place.

She was very careful not to ask too many questions, though. Whatever had happened had created a tentative peace in the Williams household, and Elain knew better than to disrupt that peace. So when Sarah spent slightly too long staring into her mirror, or abruptly stopped speaking when Elain entered the room, she didn’t say anything- just waited. Sarah would tell her, in time, hopefully.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

When Sarah had graduated high school, she, Elain, and Karen had all posed for a celebratory photo, with Sarah in the middle, arms thrown around both of them with a big smile. Toby was hugging one of Sarah’s legs, and Elain had laughed at the exact moment the camera went off. It was still one of her favorite pictures, and it was proof of how much Sarah and Karen’s relationship had progressed. Sarah had also grown rather protective of Toby over the years, and it never failed to make Elain smile, thinking of her own relationship with her sister. 

Elain had never understood what had triggered the change, until she was almost thirty, and met Sarah’s boyfriend. Even then, it had taken a year and a half before Sarah had trusted her with her secret. Apparently, her little sister had accidentally wished Toby away when she was fifteen, and had promptly proceeded to break reality around her and outsmart a powerful fae king to get him back. Elain hadn’t wanted to believe it, but she had looked at her sister’s too-bright eyes and remembered the way she had been able to bend the world around her as a child, and couldn’t find a lie in her sister’s story. 

Granted, Jareth’s demonstration of magic with the crystals hadn’t hurt matters either. 

Elain had been worried when Sarah told her that the boyfriend she’d had since her second year of college was a landed monarch with magic powers, and had been even more worried when she had learned about the several-hundred years of age difference between them. But her fears had been assuaged after watching her sister with Jareth- it was very clear who was in charge in their relationship, and it hadn’t been the person that Elain had initially mistaken for the front man in an 80’s glam rock band. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Elain had met Richard Granger at a friend’s wedding just after Sarah’s new personality had asserted itself- a Brit from Manchester, they had easily hit it off, and exchanged regular phone calls for a while before she decided to take a job offered in Britain, and see what happened. She was twenty-six when she married Richard Granger, and she was twenty-eight when their daughter, Hermione, was born. 

When Elain Granger was thirty-two, several interesting things happened. She and Richard opened their very own dental practice. Sarah and Jareth got married, and her sister became a queen in her own right (something which Sarah was still very much keeping quiet from their father and Karen), and moved to Britain, with Sarah’s job working as a TV writer taking them to London- close enough to visit for tea. 

The most interesting of all, though, was that Elain started to get a sense of déjà vu. Hermione was a wide-eyed four-year-old who wanted to know absolutely everything about the world, and had no qualms about exploring to find the answers she wanted. Things would act… strangely around her daughter. Non-native animals would appear in the Granger’s backyard- often ones out of books Hermione had been looking at- and Elain couldn’t hide anything from her daughter. Even if it had been on the highest shelf, out of sight and out of reach, she would turn around, and the next second, whatever book or fragile object she’d hidden would be in Hermione’s arms. Sometimes, she would swear that there was electricity coming out of her tiny daughter’s dark, curly hair. 

It didn’t quite click until she watched Jareth one day, playing with Hermione while Sarah helped her and Richard get dinner ready. Richard was safely involved with setting the table and turned away from their living room, but Elain could quite clearly see the crystals that Jareth was floating around a giggling Hermione’s head. Her daughter reached up to snatch one, and her look of enchantment reminded Elain so strongly of Sarah in that moment that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it earlier. 

Really, finding out later from Jareth and Sarah that Hermione had more than a small bit of magical talent was not nearly the shock it should have been. 

Learning on Hermione’s eleventh birthday that she was witch, and could attend school with other kids like her, was almost a relief, after watching Sarah struggle with her own magic and sense of self as a child. Richard had nearly had a conniption when they learned, but Elain had been calm and collected, even as the stern Scottish woman- Professor McGonagall, she learned- turned Richard’s home desk into a hamster and back again. After Jareth’s goblins, it was almost refreshing to see magic that was so… restrained.

The professor had looked at her strangely, but she simply told the woman that she had watched Hermione do unexplainable things for years, and that knowing was a relief. This seemed to assuage her, and she was able to encourage her daughter and calm Richard down in the same breath. 

Telling him about Jareth, on the other hand, had been an interesting experience. There was a lot of shouting, and a lot of talk about bogging until Elain had put her foot down and said that nobody was banishing anyone anywhere until at least after lunch. His hunger assuaged, Richard had been far less angry at Jareth, and far more curious to see what he could do, and Jareth had gladly shown Richard some of the crystals, as well as bringing in a few goblins. 

Those Elain could have done without. That, and Sarah’s snickering. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Hermione had always known Jareth had magic, but they had decided it was better for her to simply know him as a relative who was a wizard. Questions would arise as she grew, but Elain, and later, Richard, didn’t want her overly involved with fae. Sarah understood, and Jareth would listen to Sarah, even as he sulked about the decision.

It didn’t take long to get Richard on board with the idea of a magical boarding school- like something right out of one of Sarah’s fantasy novels, honestly- and soon, he was just as excited about Hermione’s education as Hermione was, and the family made plans to meet up with Minerva McGonagall to go shopping for her things. 

When the witch tapped the third brick to the left with her wand, and a world opened up beyond their own, even Sarah had looked thoroughly impressed. Hermione had practically had stars in her eyes, and was tugging her laughing aunt forward after the older witch, goggling at the world around them. 

Elain had only breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that her daughter would never have to struggle or feel out of place the way her sister had. She watched as Hermione eagerly pointed out the apothecary and the potion ingredients and as Sarah gladly helped her pick out newts eyes from the glass jars while Richard tried not to gag, and could only smile.


	2. One Short Day in Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn what it’s like to grow up surrounded by goblins, Sarah imparts some important- if unintentional- lessons about magic, and even Draco Malfoy can’t spoil the excitement of the wizarding world for Hermione. 
> 
> She leaves Diagon Alley with more questions than she’d entered it with, which is quite something, considering that Hermione is never without a query of some sort, and Minerva McGonagall has more than one bone to pick with Albus Dumbledore about the Granger family.

Hermione Granger had grown up outside of London in a small, ivy covered house, with two loving parents, an English sheepdog named Hector, and about seventeen assorted goblins.  
The goblins hadn’t originally come with the little stone house, but Hermione also had an aunt and a rather eccentric uncle who lived not a half-hour’s drive away, and who seemed to be magnets for the small, mischievous creatures. No matter how much Hermione watched her mum roll her eyes, or her father exasperatedly shout in their direction, the goblins refused to leave, adding an element of the unexpected to the otherwise typical English home. 

When food disappeared from the kitchen, Elain Granger knew better than to blame Hermione or Hector. Likewise, when the car wouldn’t start, or the microwave began making strange noises, Hermione’s father knew better than to call a mechanic or an electrician. 

Instead, he would call his sister-in-law. 

Sarah Williams would come over for dinner, usually bringing her glittery husband, and the goblins would calm down for a few weeks or so, under threat of her Uncle J, who seemed to be one of the only people the goblins actually _listened_ to. 

It was a power that Hermione often wished for, though _never_ out loud. Her aunt told the best stories- she actually got to read and write for her _job_ , something Hermione was very jealous of- and would tell Hermione all sorts of fantastic tales about pirates and mermaids and fairies. Fairies were one of her aunt’s favorite things to tell stories about, and Hermione always liked hearing about how eccentric and picky the fair folk were- especially about words. 

Words had _power_ , her Aunt Sarah insisted, and this made perfect sense to Hermione. After all, she only had to find the right book, and she would be in another world, immersed in the story. If she managed to put the right words in the right order, she could tell the truth to people, even if everything she said rang false. If she imitated the way that people in her books talked, adults would call her ‘mature for her age’ and she could get away with quite a bit. 

When Margie Stanhope pushed Hermione off the top of the jungle gym, calling Hermione a nerd, and then had to cut off all of her long, beautiful hair the next day because it had been smeared full of chewing gum in class, it would have been only logical of her teachers to assume that Hermione was the culprit. But Hermione had put the right words in the right order and sworn, up and down, that she had _never_ touched Margie, and no one had even suspected she was telling any tale but the truth. 

She had been telling the truth, though- it had been the goblins that had tangled chunks of the sticky stuff in Margie’s hair during class- but it had been Hermione’s idea, after years of the girl stealing her books and calling her names. But her words had been true, and that was the important part. 

So when her aunt Sarah told her never to make a wish if she didn’t _absolutely_ mean it, and was _sure_ she would mean it the next day and the day after that, Hermione listened. When Sarah told her not to take things for granted, Hermione listened, and started asking questions- finding her own answers when the adults around her couldn’t give them to her. 

Turns out, this would get her into trouble more often than not, but her mum didn’t seem to mind, and her Uncle J absolutely _loved_ hearing stories that involved Hermione asking questions that made men go purple in the face with frustration. 

Hermione’s Uncle J, or Uncle Jareth, was one of the weirdest people she knew. For one thing, the goblins listened to him more often to anyone- even if they didn’t always listen to him (Goblins weren’t really rule-followers, for better or for worse). For another, he dressed like Hermione imagined a rock star would dress. She hadn’t met many rock stars, but there weren’t many other people in Hermione’s neighborhood who would wear black leather and sequined shirts with blue stripes in their hair. 

Hermione thought he was delightfully strange, and absolutely adored him. 

Uncle J was what her father liked to call a ‘character’. Tall, shockingly blond, and with startlingly mismatched eyes, he tended to attract attention to them anytime they went out, simply by existing. He talked in riddles at times, was a horrible flirt with her aunt- while practically ignoring any other woman- and had a particular affinity for 80’s glam rock that had by no means ended when the 80’s did. 

Oh, and he periodically turned into an owl. 

Not anywhere their neighbors could see, of course- not that the neighbors would notice, anyways. Uncle J could flick his hand casually, and any slack-jawed neighbor who happened to see him would suddenly forget what they had been doing and wander off, dazed. Hermione had once asked him why he didn’t turn into a more interesting bird than a barn owl, and he had sputtered an answer about blending in that had had her aunt on the floor in stitches, laughing at his astonished expression. 

He joked with her Aunt Sarah sometimes about ‘reordering time, precious thing’, although Hermione had never seen him do it. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d notice, even if he did, though. Some of the books she had read with time travel in them had really confusing plotlines, and she didn’t completely understand them. She had asked uncle J about time travel once, and he had promised to show her before her aunt had threatened him with bodily harm if he ‘rearranged the natural order of things again’. Whatever that meant. Hermione didn’t think it was so bad- who, after all, didn’t have at least one thing that had happened that they wanted to change? But Aunt Sarah’s wrath was nothing to sneeze at- at least according to a few of the more tight-lipped goblins. 

Hermione thought he was a wizard, even if her aunt never described him that way. Sarah had looked thoughtful when Hermione asked her the question.

“I suppose you could think of him that way.” She had responded. “Maybe something a little different. If he’s a wizard, though, what does that make me?” she had asked, grinning, before she tackled Hermione, tickling her until she couldn’t breathe from shrieks of laughter. Hermione had supposed that was alright, then. If her uncle was a wizard, after all, her aunt must have been a witch.

She was pretty sure her aunt was a witch, anyways- Jareth or no Jareth- even though she never did any sort of flashy magic. She always made the best soups when people were sick, that would cure you within the day, and Hermione had often seen her casually flick a hand while reading, only to have to duck as a cup of tea or a biscuit flew across the room into her waiting hand. 

And people just seemed to… gravitate, she supposed, towards her aunt and uncle. Hermione remembered going out to London with them, once, when her parents had gone on holiday, and walking through Hyde Park in the afternoon sun. They had promptly encountered three different people who recognized her aunt and uncle, and who had greeted them enthusiastically. Two had bowed, and the third had actually kissed her aunt’s hand, much to her Uncle J’s amusement. 

When Hermione received her Hogwarts letter, aunt Sarah had looked appropriately thrilled, while her Uncle J had merely raised a brow and congratulated her absently, as though his mind was elsewhere. Hermione hadn’t been offended, though. When her family had celebrated later that evening with a fancy dinner, her uncle had spent most of dessert entertaining them all by conjuring fruit from thin air, and offering it to various, unsuspecting family members. 

At one point, he had grinned, a sly thing, with a lot of teeth, at her aunt, a peach outstretched in one hand. Sarah Williams had blinked at him, and promptly upended her tea over his head with a simpering smile of her own. Hermione had fallen off her chair giggling while her mother smirked, and her Uncle J was left snarling at the goblins as they cackled under the table for the rest of the evening and tried to tie her father’s shoelaces together before he noticed.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Diagon Alley was everything Hermione ever could have dreamed of a magical city being, even if her aunt had chuckled a bit when Hermione had informed her of that particular notion. Her parents had stopped to grab a bite to eat at the little pub that they had entered through, and Professor McGonagall had left to guide another family through Diagon, like she had Hermione’s. The woman had kindly assured Hermione that there would be plenty of other students there like her, who hadn’t known a thing about Hogwarts (she knew about magic of course, but her mum and dad had told her that it wouldn’t do to tell the woman about Aunt Sar and Uncle J). Hermione hoped this meant that she would be able to find friends at this new school- it was a burgeoning hope in her stomach, and she tried desperately not to over-inflate her expectations.

For now though, she and her aunt strolled through the street, freshly purchased cones from Fortescue’s in hand, and gawking like tourists in London. 

“Want to check out the post office?” her Aunt Sarah asked, giving her a grin that Hermione easily returned. “It looks more like a zoo to me.”

“They’re all owls!” Hermione whispered, in awe of the chaos that surrounded them inside. “That one looks like Uncle J!”

Sarah actually laughed hard enough at that that several of the more strangely dressed witches and wizards turned around to look at her, many with disapproving looks. Her aunt didn’t seem to care though- she had never worried about what anyone thought of her, and Hermione wished she could be so carefree. 

“I think you’re right, kiddo.” She managed to get out, through a fit of giggles. “Maybe I’ll make him deliver you the post when you’re at school!”

She and Hermione shared a conspiratorial grin at that before they made their way out, and towards the robe shop that Professor McGonagall had pointed out previously. The proprietor there, a woman named Madame Malkin, was kind enough, if terribly busy. The shop was full of witches and wizards- many of whom looked school age to Hermione- and she felt horribly exposed when her aunt went to find a bathroom, startling when a tape measure with no person attached held itself up and began to measure her head to toe, across her shoulders, and oddly enough, in between her nostrils.

“Hogwarts too?” someone asked, from her left. She turned, and saw a blond boy, with a very pointy face giving her a lazy grin. 

“Oh- er- yes!” Hermione answered, feeling excitement swell up in her. “It’s my first year.” She told him, crossing her fingers for luck.

“Me too- I’m Malfoy.” The boy introduced himself. “Draco Malfoy. And you?”

“Hermione Granger!” she answered, brightly. “I’ve already looked at our books for this year- I’m so excited for transfiguration and potions! Are- are you looking forward to classes?”

“Potions, I suppose.” The boy shrugged. “That’s an interesting name- Granger. You’re not American, are you?”

“Oh, no!” Hermione grinned, shaking her head as the boy returned her smile. “My mum is American, so if my accent is a bit funny, that’s why. But my dad is from Manchester. We live outside of London- where are you from?”

“Malfoy Manor is just outside of Wiltshire.” He told her, his drawling voice easily cutting across the chaos of the shop. “Say- what family are you from? I’ve never heard the name ‘Granger’ before.”

“Er- the Grangers, I suppose?” Hermione answered, unsure of herself when his smile fell a bit. “My mum and dad are muggles- they were so excited when I got my letter!” she told him, pride rising in her chest, only to fall when she saw the flash of disgust on his face.

“Oh, so you’re a muggleborn.” Draco responded, sneering. “I should have known.”

“What’s-“ Hermione stuttered, confused, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Well there’s no one magical in your family, right?” Draco asked, looking bored with her already. Hermione’s heart fell- she had been hoping that they could be friends at school, but she seemed to have said something wrong.

“Well- my Uncle J is a wizard…” she told him, uncertainly, “And my Aunt’s a witch.”

“Oh, so your parents are squibs, then!” Draco seemed to brighten at this, and turned again to her.

“What’s a squib?” she asked, suddenly wary of the answer. This felt like talking to the boys and girls at her primary school when they had made fun of her- they had always thought it funny when she didn’t realize they were mocking her, and she was wary of walking into a trap. 

“Children of witches and wizards that don’t have any magic.” Draco shrugged. “It’s something of a disgrace, but at least it seems to have skipped a generation with you.”

“My grandparents don’t have magic either.” Hermione said, suddenly angry at this boy for ruining the best day of my life. “But I don’t see why it’s any of _your_ business.”

“Well they aren’t _our_ kind then.” He sneered at her, turning away. “Purebloods, that is. My family have been pureblooded witches and wizards for hundreds of years.”

“Well what about before then?” Hermione asked, immediately seeing the hole in his logic. “I mean, were they squibs before then? Or muggleborns?”

“Don’t be disgusting!” he snapped. “They were pureblooded witches and wizards!”

“Yes, but they can’t always have been.” Hermione pointed out. “You’re taking that for granted. Humans have been around for about 200,000 years- I read a book about it. If your family is only hundreds of years old, then one of your ancestors must have been something other than whatever a ‘pureblood’ is.”

The boy goggled at her, gaping while she inwardly preened. 

“It’s- they- you-“ he spat, shaking his head, pale face turning rapidly red, “Shut up, you dirty muggleborn!”

Against her better judgement, Hermione felt tears prickling the backs of her eyes. She didn’t want to be this horrible boy’s friend anymore- so why was she upset?  
Fortunately, Sarah Williams picked that moment to return.

“Hey kiddo- you would not believe what they can do with fabric here- we’ve gotta get you a set of dress robes for parties. Your mum would definitely approve-“ she broke off mid-sentence, tilting her head. “You okay, kiddo?” she asked, bending down to ruffle Hermione’s hair. 

“I’m fine.” She shook her head, giving her aunt a watery smile. “Why do I need dress robes? The only parties we go to are yours and uncle J’s.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know what kind of stuff your new school is going to have!” Sarah grinned, excitedly. “What if there’s a dance, and you want to go with someone and can’t- all because your horrible Aunt Sarah didn’t set you up with a stylish set of dress robes?”

“You can always make Uncle J deliver them at school later.” Hermione shrugged, giving a small smile when her aunt laughed again.

“Hogwarts doesn’t have _dances_.” Draco Malfoy scoffed, from next to her, and Hermione shrunk in on herself a bit. 

“Well that’s a damn shame.” Her aunt responded, hands on her hips as she stared critically at the blond boy. “Are you going there, then?”

“My family has been going to Hogwarts since the school existed.” He scoffed. Hermione watched her aunt eye him up and down, and shrug, turning away and back to Hermione, apparently deciding he wasn’t worth her time.

“Bloody good for you lot, I guess.” She dismissed him, turning back to Hermione. “Kiddo, I think you would look fantastic in lavender. We should grab your mum, though- she’ll be pissed as hell at me if I buy you a dress without her.”

Hermione gave a watery laugh, and it was suddenly much easier to manage the sneering glares from the blond boy when he aunt’s solid presence was there, reassuring and steady. She managed to calm herself down, Sarah’s enthusiasm infectious, before they reached the dingy little pub where her parents had stopped to grab a bite. 

Her mother, who had seemed a little overwhelmed by some of the supplies Hermione needed to get (especially the potions ingredients), immediately agreed with her aunt about the dress robes, and they decided to head back to Madame Malkin’s after they visited the bank. Her father had been chatting with another wizard in the pub and had decided that if Hermione was going to be a citizen of this strange world, they needed to set her up with a bank account like the savings account she had at the muggle bank. 

Her aunt had grinned when they mentioned Gringotts.

“Perfect-“ she’d responded, “J said he would meet us there- he had some business to handle earlier.”

“Your husband is meeting us at the bank?” her mother had asked, incredulously, before shaking her head. “Never mind- I know I’ll regret asking. On we go!” she had directed, rolling her eyes. Hermione had giggled all along the way as her aunt teased her mother about the way she stared at some of the storefronts, even if she and Hermione were staring just as much.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Gringotts was _enormous_ , with white marble pillars that were wider than Hermione was tall, and gold plaques that cursed any visitors who may be trying to steal from the bank. Her father was very interested in reading all the gruesome depictions, and her mother rolled her eyes as her husband and sister challenged each other to see who could find the more disgusting curse written out near the bank entrance. 

When they pushed open the doors to the main room, it was like stepping back into the muggle world, strangely enough. Bankers shuffled around the marble counters, and there were elaborate chandeliers overhead- it reminded Hermione of a building she had visited in New York city once with her grandparents. The only difference was that the bankers were short, pointy eared, and almost definitively not human. 

Hermione tentatively approached the counter, and a shiver went down her spine at the being’s dismissive glance at her. Professor McGonagall had said the bank was run by goblins, but these goblins were far different from the ones she was used to. She couldn’t imagine the stern-faced being in front of her putting whipped cream in her father’s shoes, like Pip and Skeep had last week. This goblin wore an immaculately tailored suit, and was delicately writing something down, long fingernails gently gripping the feather quill.

“Excuse me, sir?” She asked, tentatively. The being across the counter raised a thick eyebrow, and gave her an unimpressed look that would not have been out of place on her uncle’s face. “My parents and I would like to exchange muggle money for galleons, please. Are you who we ask about that?”

“Certainly.” The being responded, shuffling around to draw out the largest book Hermione had ever seen. “Your name?” 

“Hermione Granger, sir.” 

“Granger, Granger-“ The goblin muttered, flipping through a record book, “One second.”

“One of the accounts we set aside earlier this morning, Griphook.” 

Hermione whirled around to see her Uncle Jareth greet them, kissing Aunt Sarah on the cheek and giving her what her mother would have described as a ‘saucy’ look. He was dressed like the other wizards were, in long, flowing robes of a midnight blue. There were elaborate embroidered designs lining the sleeves and neckline, but it was quite restrained compared to the spiked vest and leather pants she’d seen him wear the other night at dinner.

“Of course, your majesty.” The goblin- Griphook, apparently, quickly responded, and Hermione wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. Majesty?

“You can allow Hermione Granger to draw from my personal accounts if she so chooses,” Her uncle drawled, placing a hand on her shoulder, “She’s my dearest niece, and my favorite as well.”

“Uncle J, I’m your only niece.” Hermione pointed out.

Jareth merely smirked.

“That grants you the title by default, then.” He pointed out, looking absolutely delighted as her aunt rolled her eyes at him.

“Of course.” Griphook answered, his tone far more deferential. “Your majesty- my Queen-“ he bowed to Sarah, who smiled at him before he turned to Hermione- “-my lady.” And he bowed to Hermione, who didn’t quite know what to say.

“Er, thank you, Mr. Griphook, sir.” She managed to stutter, drawing a surprised look from the goblin. “I really appreciate your help.”

“It’s an honor to assist the niece of the Labyrinth’s Champion.” Griphook told her, inclining his head. “How much did you want to exchange?”

“A forty galleon withdrawal, if you would, Griphook.” Her uncle directed, behind her. “From my own account.”

Hermione went red. 

“Oh that’s alright-“

“Nonsense.” Her uncle scoffed, grinning at her. “You only turn eleven once- it’s been a _considerable_ amount of time since I was eleven, but your birthday is coming up- consider it a congratulatory birthday gift, if you would.” 

Her aunt rolled her eyes again, and her mother just raised her brows. Hermione suspected that her uncle’s primary motivation in any of his actions was to exasperate the people around him. If it meant that she could pick up an extra book before they went home today, though, she would gladly be complicit.

“Er- thank you, Uncle J.” she told him, blushing furiously as one of the goblins handed her a bag of gold. “Oh, thank you sir.”

“Think nothing of it.” He waved her off, throwing an arm around her Aunt Sarah’s shoulders. He gave her a leering grin, and the dark-haired woman smirked at him. “We have shopping to do, correct?”

“We need to get you a wand first, young lady.” Her father muttered, looking at his checklist from over his horn-rimmed glasses. The world could be ending, and her father would still manage to have a checklist at hand for any conceivable situation. Even the existence of magic had not been enough of a shock to break that particular habit. “Then you can shop to your heart’s content.”

“Maybe consider saving some of your uncle’s gift.” He mother told her, absently, thanking Griphook, who looked surprised, again, but gave her a brief bow before they left. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Aunt Sar?”

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Why did Griphook call you the Champion of the Labyrinth? And bow to us, and call Uncle J a king?”

“That’s a long story, kiddo.” Sarah smirked. “Try not to call your uncle a king, though. His head will get even larger than it already is.”

“Precious thing, you wound me.” Jareth sulked. Hermione broke out into a fit of giggles at Sarah’s face- thoroughly unimpressed. 

“J handles some administrative things for the goblins.” Her aunt told her, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as they continued to stroll back to Malkin’s. Hermione held the bag with her wand in it- she could almost feel the warmth coming from it. She couldn’t help but bounce on her toes a bit from the sheer excitement of it all.

“Administrative?” she asked.

“Close enough.” Her uncle shrugged, ignoring the stares that the colorful streaks in his wild blond hair seemed to attract from passing witches and wizards.

“And what’s the Champion of the Labyrinth?” Hermione asked. “What’s the Labyrinth?”

“Not something most of your peers are going to know about.” Sarah told her. “And not something they need to hear about, okay?” Her aunt’s face was more serious than usual, and Hermione nodded. “It’s kind of a long story- I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“Okay.” Hermione agreed, peering down into the bag at her new wand again. Her aunt would always give her answers when she asked, and would never lie about _anything_ , for all that she would twist the truth. ‘Later’ could mean tomorrow, and it could mean fifty years from now, but Hermione knew she would get to hear the story eventually, and for now, eventually was good enough.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Albus, there’s something odd about the Granger family.” Minerva McGonagall huffed, sweeping into the headmaster’s office to find him seemingly absorbed in thought, Fawkes snoozing on his perch. 

“Glad to hear the outings were a success, Minerva.” He responded, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. “Would you care to join me for dinner? Poppy’s informed me that the elves are making shepherd’s pie.”

“Did you know?” Minerva asked, hands on her hips as she raised an eyebrow at the frustrating man.

“I know a great many things. You’ll need to be a bit more specific, Minnie.” 

“They knew about magic, Albus.” Minerva insisted. “I’ve never seen muggles so calm in Diagon Alley the first time. And the Granger girl’s aunt could _see_ The Leaky Cauldron.”

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes glinted, and he folded his hands together in thought. 

“Now that _is_ interesting.” He allowed, nodding. “Could she, now?”

“Her parents couldn’t see a thing.” Minerva told him, peering over pointed glasses. “but they seemed terribly non-plussed for muggles in the magical world the first time. And the rest of the family looked appropriately shocked when I mentioned exchanging coin with the goblins, but her aunt just nodded. No confusion, no demand of an explanation, no shock, whatsoever. Like she _expected_ it, of all things.”

Albus Dumbledore frowned. 

“It seems we shall need to keep an eye on young Miss Granger.” He murmured, stroking his beard absentmindedly. One of the many delicate golden instruments on his desk had begun to hum, and the man absently joined in. “Hagrid was there with Harry today as well- did you happen to see either of them?” Minerva frowned, but began to answer his questions about Harry. She would just have to pick another time to confront the headmaster about Hermione Granger’s odd family. 

Albus knew more than he was telling her- she was almost _certain_ of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the second chapter is up! Thank you so much for all of your kind comments- I really loved getting to read them. This is my first time writing fic, and you guys have made it a lovely experience so far.
> 
> Please forgive me if I accidentally use American words instead of British ones- my 'in-universe' excuse is that Hermione's mom and Sarah are from upstate New York (at least according to the Labyrinth wiki), and so Hermione isn't 100% British, 100% of the time. My 'real-life' explanation is that I know a hell of a lot more about people in upstate New York than I do about British people :)
> 
> Draco's conversation with Hermione was really fun to write, and happened pretty easily compared to the rest of this chapter. Draco is probably the kind of little shit that can recite his ancestry back to the fourteen-hundreds and thinks that it’s cool to do that at parties, so he's a bit of a jerk here. I think he'll grow out of it eventually, but he's not going to do it without some serious accompanying snark from Hermione. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. It's Only Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione has some unwelcome help packing for school, Elain would like her family to behave like adults on occasion, and the Williams sisters have a frank, and overdue, conversation about the ramifications of magic and the potential of eternity.

“Skeep!” Elain heard her daughter holler, sprinting down the hallways of their home as a small brown blur ran ahead of her, a piece of red fabric trailing behind it. There was chittering and a muffled crash, and she saw Hermione stomp back up the stairs, hair askew, and the red scarf that her grandparents had given her last Christmas clutched firmly in one hand. 

“Just out of curiosity, how long did it take you and Jareth to move over here?” Elain asked Sarah, who was lounging in a chair in the kitchen, cup of tea in hand, and flipping through the most recent _Vogue_. “When you decided to relocate from New York, that is.”

“Magic tends to simplify the process considerably.” Sarah responded, looking up. “But it was still a huge pain in the ass- J has a bigger closet than I do, and when he decided that he was going to bring all of it up from the castle, it was a waking nightmare. Trust me when I tell you that it’s easier to box and unbox than have to deal with Jareth’s idea of storage- namely, small, pocket dimensions that are very easy to confuse with others. After the second time we had a servant fall through one, I told him he had to carry his own damn shirts. Made sure Gavin and Isabel got nice Winter Solstice bonuses for their troubles, though.” Sarah shrugged. “Any particular reason why? I doubt you want Jareth helping Hermione pack- they would have far too much fun with that.”

“No-“ Elain shuddered, “I would rather Hermione wasn’t messing with pocket dimensions, or whatever it is you used there until she has a better grasp on her magic. I was just wondering how much of a hindrance the goblins were.”

Sarah almost tipped her chair over, snorting with laughter. 

“Oh like you would not believe.” She chuckled. “There was one- Gryn- that could and would eat just about anything- J was so mad. Ended up bogging the poor sap after he ate a couple sets of his cufflinks.”

Elain wrinkled her nose. 

“Lovely.” She remarked, continuing to chop garlic for dinner.

“I can call them off, or at least try, if Hermione needs a break.” Sarah offered, peering out into the hallway and up the stairs, where they could still hear the sound of bickering goblins, and Hermione’s chastisements. 

“She should have packed _weeks_ ago.” Elain smirked, not turning around to face her sister. “Maybe the inconvenience will make her think twice before she puts off a task next time.”  
Sarah snickered.

“Very cruel, El. J would approve.”

“Where is he, anyways?”

“Handling some business in the Underground.” Sarah responded, nonchalantly. “We’ve had some issues with a few sects of courtiers that still aren’t thrilled that the King of the Goblins married a mortal. He’s handling it.”

“Oh?” Elain raised her brow, turning to face her sister. “He didn’t want your help?”

Sarah snorted.

“Far from it.” She admitted. “But one of my conditions to J’s council when we got married was that I get to keep living a normal life for now- those bastards are already irritated enough that I’m human. Might as well get to enjoy my human job and human life while I can.” She flipped a page, turning her eyes back down to the magazine.

“Are you still entirely human?” Elain asked, after a pause. Sarah abruptly lifted her head, surprise evident on her features. 

“Enough to where it counts.” She eventually shrugged, tightening her shoulders. 

“It doesn’t upset me, Sarah.” Elain told her, gently, deliberately taking a maternal tone. “I’m not bothered by it, necessarily. Just curious.”

“Why?” Sarah asked, hands clutching her teacup slightly too tight. “What does it matter?”

“It matters that my sister is happy.” Elain said, lightly. “It matters that I know what’s going on in your life, because I care about you. I see the way that even the few wrinkles and creases you have around your eyes have smoothed out, and if it weren’t for the way you carry yourself, I think people would easily mistake you for twenty.”

“Fountain of freaking youth.” Sarah grumbled. “It’s not- it’s not like that, El.”

“Then tell me.” Elain pressed. “What is it like?” she moved over to sit at the table across from Sarah. “Are you okay with this- with all these changes? Is it- does the magic ever worry you? Are you someday going to be more fae than human?”

Sarah tilted her head slightly, and the tightness around her mouth loosened into a slightly bitter smile. 

“Hermione’s never going to be like me, El.” She said, softly enough that Elain almost didn’t hear her. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No, but it’s what you want to know.” Sarah retorted, tone sharp enough that Elain physically recoiled. “It unnerves you, to see the way I don’t age- the way I don’t change. God knows Dad and Karen are starting to notice, if the way one of Karen’s friends asked me if I’d had ‘work’ done last Christmas was anything to go by.” She scoffed. “Hermione’s not going to be a dangerous freak like me.”

“Which one of-“

“Helen.” Sarah interrupted, sneering. “That bitch from dad’s law firm.”

Elain hummed, mentally resolving herself to have a word with their father about the woman. Robert Williams would gladly put in the word to trim a few holiday bonuses at the firm if Elain brought up the woman’s behavior.

“I’m never going to be completely human again, though.” Sarah told her, sounding far too nonchalant about the entire thing for her not to be upset. Elain had a quarter of a century of practice reading Sarah’s emotions, and right now, they were spiking all over the place.

“I do want to know what you think Hermione’s life is going to be like as she ages.” Elain admitted, meeting Sarah’s eyes. “You’re not wrong there.”

“I told you-“

“You didn’t let me finish.” Elain nearly snapped. “I wasn’t asking about Hermione now, though. It’s pretty clear to me that the way you and Jareth use magic is different than the people Hermione’s going to be surrounded by. I want to know how you feel about magic in your life, and the only reason I’m thinking about it now is because Ricky and I are literally about to send our daughter off to magical boarding school, and it’s strange, but somehow- weirdly enough- that makes me curious about the magic that you have. The magic that we don’t really talk about.” She sighed, giving her sister a pleading look. “I’m not rejecting you, or repulsed by you, or upset that you’re changing. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just… curious, I suppose. Like anyone would be if their sister was apparently a sovereign monarch to a magical realm. Try not to judge all of us with the same yardstick as mom.” She said softly, watching Sarah’s face pinch at the thought. “Besides- I dealt with you when you were a preteen brat just fine. Goblin Queen is a significant improvement over the mood swings.”  
Sarah barked out a laugh, rubbing her temples with a hand. 

“I worry sometimes.” She admitted, her voice softer than Elain was used to hearing from her sister. “That all this is going to be too much for you. That we’ll scare you, and you’ll leave us. I didn’t want to leave you and Toby- that’s what I told Jareth. Incidentally, he doesn’t want that either. He’s quite fond of both of you, and adores Hermione. And I think that the more Jareth’s courtiers bitch at him about my human life, the more J wants me to hang onto it.”

“If I were afraid of either of you, do you really think I would let Ricky argue so loudly with Jareth about soccer teams?” Elain scoffed. “Or let Jareth and his literal _goblins_ babysit my only child?”

Sarah actually did laugh at that, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders. 

“Besides,” Elain continued, letting herself relax, “We’ve all got to adjust our threshold for normal now, anyways. The owl from Minerva McGonagall said that if Hermione wanted a pet at school, she could either bring a cat, toad, or _owl_. A fucking _owl_ , Sar.”

At that, Sarah burst into a fit of giggles so fierce that she woke up Hector, the Granger family’s elderly sheepdog, who had been peacefully snoozing beneath the table. 

“I’m already planning to send J to deliver Hermione letters.” She snickered. “He’ll blend right in with the other post owls.”

“The minute that Ricky and I get called in to a parent teacher conference at wizard school-“ Elain told her sister, the tilt of her mouth betraying her amusement, “-I am holding you and Jareth _entirely_ responsible.”

“I’ll give you that one.”

____________________________________________

Dinner that night was chaotic as could be- Toby Williams was present, apparently having caught a break from a night of drama school after a rehearsal for some sort of glam-rock biopic, and so had managed to make Hermione’s farewell dinner with only a minimal amount of glitter still stuck in his hair. 

“This is so _good_ Ellie.” He mumbled, mouth full of food. Hermione giggled at him, as Elain raised a brow and gestured for him to chew, and _then_ talk.

“You manage to finish packing up okay, kiddo?” Sarah asked Hermione, who suddenly was looking at her plate as though it was the most fascinating thing in the room.

“You _did_ finish packing, I hope.” Elain raised her brow again, taking a sip of wine. 

“Of course I did, mum!” Hermione scoffed. “I couldn’t fit all of my books in my trunk though.” She briefly pouted, and Elain saw her husband hide a smile behind his own wine glass. “Uncle J- is there a magic way to fit more books in there?”

“Oh, certainly.” Jareth grinned, shooting a wink at Elain, who was giving him a warning look. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you learn about it in school.”

“Not fair.” Hermione whined. “I’m probably going to be the only one there who _doesn’t_ already know how to do that.” She bit her lip, pushing around dinner on her plate. 

“I highly doubt that, sweetheart.” Richard reassured her. “I’m sure the other kids your age won’t know that either. Your uncle only knows because he’s old as dirt himself.”

Jareth made a very rude face at Richard Granger, and Sarah snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth. 

“Yeah, but I’m a _muggleborn_.” Hermione said, as though it explained everything. “People there are going to know so much more about magic than I do already- I’ll be behind before we even start classes!”

Elain frowned, and met Sarah’s equally concerned face.

“Hermione, dear, what on earth makes you think you would know less about magic than the rest of those snot-nosed brats?” Jareth asked, as Richard openly groaned.  
“Really, Jareth?”

“The boy I met in Diagon Alley!” Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up and inadvertently flinging a piece of meat across the room. Elain didn’t look to see whether Hector or the goblins got to it first. As long as she didn’t have to clean it up off the floor. “He said that I wasn’t any _good_ because I’m not a ‘pureblood’ or whatever like he is!”

“Are you talking about that little blond brat in Madame Malkin’s?” Sarah asked, frowning. Hermione nodded.

“But what if he’s _right_?” She insisted, wringing her hands. “What if no one likes me because I’m muggleborn?”

Elain spared a glance for her immortal brother-in-law, who was frowning. 

“Sweetheart-“ she started, her tone the same gentle coaxing that she had once used to draw Sarah out of her room when the other kids in school had teased her for the fantasy books she read, or the costumes she liked to wear, “Professor McGonagall told us that there were several other muggleborns in your year- I’m sure you won’t be the only one.”

At least, Elain hoped she wouldn’t be. She exchanged a glance with Richard, before Jareth inevitably, and quite likely on purpose, provoked a subject change by betting Sarah that she wouldn’t drink a shot of hot sauce. 

Sarah provoked into action, the goblins began eagerly chittering, and Elain watched in exasperation as Richard squawked at the display, and Hermione perked up to egg her aunt on. 

Children. She was surrounded by children.

____________________________________________

The next morning dawned far more optimistically, and Elain highly suspected that Jareth had indeed helped Hermione figure out a way to cram even _more_ books into her bags, if the way that Hermione’s little shoulder bag rattled and crashed as she excitedly shoved it into the chair next to her at breakfast was any indicator. 

Her brother-in-law simply smirked, and waved a hand to make the teapot pour Sarah another cup on its own, as Sarah seemed completely absorbed in an argument with Toby about whether or not some actor had been correctly cast in a new movie. 

Hermione’s worry from the night before seemed mostly gone, and Elain could tolerate an overstuffed, magical bookbag if it meant that Hermione was less nervous, and Jareth wasn’t going to get in any more trouble before the train left. 

“Now remember,” Elain told Hermione, “If you want to write to either of your grandparents, just send the owls to us, and we’ll pass them along. We can talk about whether or not to have a conversation about magic with them over the Christmas hols, but for now, let’s go easy on them.”

Hermione was nodding far too fast to be listening, giggling as Pip and Skeep rode around on Hector’s back. Richard was already outside, likely failing to cram Hermione’s trunk in the boot of the car, if the muffled swearing she could hear was any indication. 

Elain sighed.

“Jareth?” she asked, watching warily as her brother-in-law turned around, eyebrows raised. “Any chance you would be willing to help Ricky fit Hermione’s things in the car? I suspect we may be having some space issues.”

“Of course.” He grinned, cracking his knuckles.

“Do _not_ turn my car into some sort of godforsaken magical anomaly!” Elain hollered after him, as he ventured out to- undoubtedly- give Richard a hard time before fixing the problem. Elain honestly didn’t think the man could help it- acting like a little shit seemed to be his default. She watched Toby blanch, sticking his tongue out as he realized that Sarah had slipped salt in his coffee and snorted, watching Sarah crack up at their brother’s expense. 

Those two were perfect for each other.

____________________________________________

“We never finished our conversation from yesterday.” Sarah murmured to her, as they stood at King’s Cross, watching Hermione wave at them from the train. 

Elain turned to face her sister once the train was out of sight.

“You asked me how I felt about… not aging.” Sarah muttered, looking down. “About all the changes- all the new magic. It’s more than a little strange, sometimes. But with Jareth- it gets much easier to embrace all the rest, and enjoy it more than just accepting it when I think about him, and get to wake up with him in the mornings and watch him grumble about morning coffee the way anyone else would, and bang his toes against the coffee table and swear, and then kiss me anyways, even before he brushes his hair.”

“And how about being fae?” Elain asked, softly. “About being unchanging- about immortality?”

Sarah simply shrugged, shooting Jareth a grin across the platform. 

“Eternity can wait, for now.” She told Elain. “This life is for me, and for all of you- for the time I can enjoy with everyone. Everything after that?” She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I guess I’m just going to have to wait and see. But It’ll be an adventure, right?”

Elain took her sister’s hand in her own, squeezing it gently as she gave Sarah a warm smile. 

“If you’re involved, of that, I have no doubt.” She told her.

“Only forever.” She heard Sarah murmur, smiling at her husband, who had glamoured himself to look far more normal than he usually bothered to. “Not long at all, really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's ruthlessness is one of my favorite traits of hers in the books, and I figure it's gotta come from somewhere. Elain Williams-Granger will not let you get away with upsetting her sister, and I think even J knows better than to get between the two. Jareth's kind of ambivalent disregard for human morals at times is also going to be something of an influence on Hermione, I think. 
> 
> I didn’t think I would be including Williams sister angst in what was intended to be mostly a fluffy piece. But this practically wrote itself, and I think that their relationship is important. Sarah making the decision to slowly become an immortal Goblin Queen is absolutely the stuff you address with siblings so that it doesn’t explode into a 'thing' at Sunday brunch. Sarah and Elain probably ABSOLUTELY still have some residual hurt-feelings about the way their mom left when they were young, and it’s something they’ve gotta work out. 
> 
> Also, we get to see a small bit of the enormous chip on Hermione's shoulder that is, I think, one of her biggest motivators in school. Draco isn't entirely responsible, but he has kind of hit on this insecurity of Hermione's that she won't fit in, or belong, at her new school. They've got a ways to go. 
> 
> Next chapter, we'll meet a lot of the other HP characters! Thanks so much for your kind reviews guys, I love reading them! Please keep leaving them :) <3


	4. Toads, Trains, & Glitter Gel Pens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione tries to make new friends with varying degrees of success, uses some of the considerable vocabulary she’s picked up from her uncle, and has an unexpected conversation with a hat. 
> 
> Back in a suburb of London, the King and Queen of the goblins have an interesting conversation about the wizarding world.

The train felt oddly large to Hermione as she made her way down the corridor. It was odd- she’d taken the tube plenty of times, and been on bigger passenger trains in the muggle world, but there was something oddly intimidating about this particular trip. Opening up a compartment that only seemed to have one girl in it, Hermione steadied her shoulders, giving what she hoped was a welcoming smile.

“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, watching a plethora of emotions play out over the girl’s face before settling on surprise as her eyes fixed on Hermione’s necklace.

“Is that a fairy stone?” the girl asked, sharp eyes narrowing. Hermione decided to take that as a yes, and made her way in, her bag clutched tightly in her hand. Uncle J had helped her store a lot of books in it earlier, and she was still surprised it didn’t weigh several hundred pounds at this point. It had been like the first scene of Mary Poppins, watching Uncle J reach his entire arm into Hermione’s tiny bag earlier.

“I think so.” Hermione shrugged, sitting down across from her. Her hair was cut short in a dark bob, and she had a cute nose that was slightly turned-up. “My Uncle gave it to me as a present before school.” She fingered the little river rock carefully, examining the neat hole that the water had worn through it.

“It’s a necklace?” Hermione had asked, when Uncle J had presented it to her. His grin had been slightly chiding.

“You’re taking things for granted, Hermione.” He had told her, absently plucking one of the goblins out of thin air where the little guy had jumped at him. Hermione had giggled, watching Uncle J give Gryn a deeply unimpressed look while holding him upside-down by the ankle. Gryn was, as his name implied, grinning widely as he dangled there. Uncle J had sighed, and the little goblin had vanished, sent who-knows-where, before her uncle had turned back to face her. “Is anything _just_ a necklace?”

“It’s very pretty.” She had said, honestly. “Did it come from the stream outside?” She’d frowned, touching the stone again. “It feels almost like it’s humming, though. Is that what you meant?”

“Better.” Uncle J had nodded. “It _is_ humming- that’s the magic you can feel. It isn’t from the stream outside, though. It’s much older than that. Old as time- older than dirt!” He’d ruffled her hair, and left Hermione in fits of giggles. His face had become slightly more serious at that, though. “It’s a seeing stone- although some people have different names for it.”

“Can I see through it?” Hermione had asked, picking it up and holding it up to her eye. “Whoa.” She breathed. “You have a really weird, bright glow, Uncle J.”

He had chuckled.

“That’s magic.” He’d told her. “A seeing stone can see through some illusions- they have to happen naturally, though, and they’re quite rare.”

“You just want me to be able to see things?” Hermione had asked, quizzically. “Do I need this for school?”

“It certainly wouldn’t have been on your supply list.” Uncle J had chuckled, again, clearly amused at the question. “But I want you to wear it at all times when you’re at school, alright?”

“Why?”

“It’s not just for seeing-“ her uncle had explained, patiently. It was one of her favorite things about her uncle- that he never tired of her questions, and would always answer if he could, “-it’s also for protection. Seeing stones- fairy stones- are protection against the worst of the worst.”

“You mean like dark magic?” Hermione had asked, in a small voice. “Some of the books I got mention that.”

“Just like dark magic.” Uncle J had nodded, oddly serious. “I don’t know that it will help deflect little pranks, or harmless hexes, but if anything happens, it will keep you safe.” He tilted her chin up so that she was staring into his mismatched eyes. “Promise me, Hermione, that you won’t take it off when you’re at school.”

“I promise.” She’d agreed easily. Generally, her uncle had good reasons when he asked her to do something- and the stone really was interesting. The girl on the train seemed to think so too.

“Those are rare.” The girl muttered, looking almost jealous, although Hermione couldn’t figure out why. She was very pretty, and had stylish clothes and sparkly earrings that looked like real diamond studs. They made the little enamel lightning bolt earrings Uncle Toby had given her and her glitter nail polish look cheap by comparison. “Your uncle gave you that? Is he wealthy?”

Hermione was mildly taken aback at the question.

“I’m not sure.” She finally responded. “Um, my aunt is the one with a big job, anyways. I’m- I’m Hermione Granger, by the way.”

The girl looked slightly taken aback for a second, and a slight flush covered her face.

“I’m Pansy.” She introduced, tossing her hair. “Pansy Parkinson.”

There was a bit of an awkward lull-  Hermione’s brain didn’t seem to know what to do, and so she pulled out a notebook to try and journal in. Her mum had gotten it for her, probably worried that Hermione would have no one to talk to at school. Hermione tried not to be upset at how true that was turning out so far. At least her mum had _also_ given her a set of gel pens to write in it with. Her dad had laughed himself silly at the thought of quills, and had sent her with a set of sturdy black pens, but Elain Granger’s eyes had twinkled when Hermione had let her gaze linger on the glitter pens in a stationary store display, and she’d given them to Hermione that morning before they’d left the house.

“What’s that?” The girl asked, looking curious despite herself as Hermione started to write. She leaned over to get a better look, looking surprised at the bright colors and the glitter.

“They’re gel pens!” Hermione grinned, holding one up. “They write in really fun, shiny colors. My mum got them for me- she wasn’t sure if I’d be able to write in a journal with a quill.”

Pansy gave her an odd look.

“Your parents are muggles, then?” she asked. She didn’t sound impressed, but she also didn’t sound repulsed the way the Draco boy had, so Hermione nodded.

“Is that weird?”

“Kind of, but I don’t really care.” Pansy tossed her hair. “Show me how those work.”

Hermione grinned, showing Pansy the new colors and how to write with them, and by the time someone else came into their compartment, the girls were giggling over a game of MASH as Hermione tried to explain how it worked to Pansy. She had given the other girl the bright pink gel pen- and Pansy Parkinson had looked oddly touched at the gesture before the sneer returned to her face. Hermione didn’t mind though- Pansy was blunt and asked a lot of questions and knew way more about magic than Hermione did.

Hermione hoped this meant they could be friends.

 

* * *

 

There was a clatter, and both girls looked up as a boy with a flushed round face and mouse-brown hair opened the door and almost tripped into their compartment.

“I’m sorry-“ the tawny-haired boy blustered, looking like he was on the verge of tears, “have either of you seen Trevor? Er- my toad. He’s missing and I can’t seem to find him anywhere…”

“You lost a toad?” Pansy snorted, looking only slightly contrite when Hermione glared at her.

“He was a present from my gran.” The boy fidgeted, his eyes darting around the compartment. He was hunched over a bit, and Hermione instantly felt sorry for him. “I guess I’ll be going- can- can you let me know if you see him?”

He looked so miserable that Hermione stood up, a determined set to her eyebrows.

“I’ll help you.” She declared, giving Pansy a stern look. The girl rolled her eyes, but stood up with Hermione. “You said his name was Trevor?”

The boy looked rather taken aback, but incredibly grateful.

“Yes- er- yes. Trevor. He’s a Natterjack Toad, you see.” He stammered. “So he’s got a yellow line down his back. I’m Neville, by the way. Neville Longbottom.”

“Hermione Granger.” She responded, automatically.

“Pansy Parkinson.” The dark-haired girl drawled.

“Where did you see him last?” Hermione asked.

“I thought he was in my bag when I got on the train!” Neville wailed. “I know he got on the train with me, but I don’t know where he disappeared to!”

“What does he eat?” Pansy asked, to the surprise of both Hermione and Neville, who turned to look at her with startled expressions. “Oh come _on_.” She huffed, crossing her arms. “ _Everyone_ knows that the best way to find an animal is to lure them with food.”

Hermione blinked.

“Well he eats bugs usually-“ Neville muttered, fidgeting again, “but I put his food in my trunk before we got on the train.” He looked so hopeless that Hermione was almost annoyed. “Gran didn’t want me to lose it before I got to school.”

“Where can we find bugs on a train?” Hermione muttered, thinking.

“The trolley.” Pansy snapped her fingers, drawing surprised looks again from the two other children. “Cockroach clusters.” She explained, impatiently. “The candy?”

A look of comprehension began dawning on Neville’s face, but Hermione was still confused.

“Where do we find candy on the train though?” she asked, trying to figure out if the ‘cockroach clusters’ had actual insects in them. “We’ll have to ask everyone we see if they have any-“

“There’s a trolley that sells sweets.” Pansy interrupted, waving her off, looking mildly bored. There was a small spark of something behind her eyes though, and Hermione was starting to get the sense that Pansy Parkinson was much more interesting than she seemed. “We just have to find the witch that takes it up and down the corridors.”

Neville seemed to have brightened up considerably, now that they had a plan.

“Where does she usually start?” Hermione asked, poking her head out to survey the hallways. This would be much faster with goblins, but she had promised her mum that she wouldn’t call on them without a really good reason.

“Well my friend Adrian says that they start at the top end of the train…” Pansy trailed off, leading the other two children out into the corridor. Hermione let Neville go in front of her and grinned secretly at their backs as Pansy interrogated Neville about every aspect of his toad, right down to how old the little thing was.

 

* * *

 

They had split up briefly- Pansy had gone with Neville, which Hermione thought was a good idea- people might not listen to Neville, but Pansy was loud and bossy and wasn’t likely to let it go. Hermione rather liked that about the other girl.

She knocked on yet _another_ compartment, sliding the door open to see a boy with messy hair and glasses sitting across from a gangly boy with freckles and bright red hair.

She frowned- she was pretty sure she had seen that shade of red on the train in some of the other compartments. They were both skinny, but the dark-haired boy was wearing clothes several sizes too large and they hung off him in a way that made him look even smaller. They had a mountain of candies and sweets spread out on the seats around them and their heads swiveled around, almost in sync, as Hermione opened the door.

“Have either of you seen a toad?” she asked, trying to remember what her mum had told her about keeping her chin up when she spoke to people. “Neville’s lost one.”

“A toad?” the red-headed boy blinked. There was a spot of something on his nose.

“You’ve got dirt on your nose.” Hermione told him. She’d want someone to point it out to her, but he scowled like she had insulted him. “I’m Hermione Granger, by the way.”

“Ron Weasley.” The red-head told her, bits of some sort of candy still in his mouth.

“Pleasure.” Hermione tried not to wince. It was a bit gross, really. She noticed the other boy looking confused and she turned to look at him.

“I’m Harry.” He told her, in an oddly quiet voice. “Harry Potter.”

Hermione couldn’t stop herself from gasping.

“I know who you are!” she exclaimed, feeling herself grin. “You were in _Modern Magical History_ and  _Great Wizarding Events in the Twentieth Century_! I read as much as I could when I got my letter- didn’t you? I was so nervous I would be behind when I got here, so of course I did some extra studying.”

Harry looked a little nervous, but Hermione saw that Ron had his wand pointed at a rather tattered-looking rat on his lap and got excited all over again.

“Oh are you doing magic?” she asked, nearly breathless with the excitement. He nodded. “Let’s see then!”

“Er- okay.” Ron muttered, turning pink. “Uh- sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!”

There was a brief glow from the end of his wand, but the rat simply squeaked at him and hid its head in a box of something called ‘every-flavor beans’. Ron turned even redder, and Hermione could feel her own eyebrows climbing.

“It doesn’t seem like a _real_ spell, does it?” she asked, earning a scowl from the boy. “Not like the ones in the books at least.”

“The twins must’ve thought it was a joke.” Ron muttered, his ears a bright scarlet color. “They told me it was.”

“I practiced a few over the summer-“ Hermione responded, trying to make conversation, “-Most of them seemed to work just fine for me.” She caught sight of Harry’s glasses and gasped. “Here- can I show you?”

“Show me what?” Harry frowned.

“The spell!” Hermione impatiently exclaimed. Somehow, this had been easier with Pansy. “Can I cast a spell on your glasses?”

Hermione had been on the receiving end of enough goblin magic to know that it was terribly disconcerting when someone did magic on you without telling you about it. The goblins never seemed to mind it when Uncle J was tossing them around with his own power, but Harry looked nervous already, and she really wanted him to like her. He probably had a fascinating perspective on the wizarding world, what with his role in saving it, and she desperately wanted to ask him about it.

Harry looked confused, but nodded, slowly. Hermione beamed, pointing her wand directly at the tape in the center of his glasses. Harry had piercing green eyes, she noticed, and they stood out even more with the copper tone of his skin. Hermione briefly wondered if one of his parents had been Indian.

“Occulus reparo!” she cast, watching in delight as the tape unwound itself from the center and Harry’s glasses mended themselves. He took them off, looking amazed, and Hermione wondered briefly why the savior of the wizarding world had been walking around with broken glasses.

“Wow.” He breathed, looking astonished. “Thanks!” He gave a slight grin, and Hermione beamed back, only wilting a little when Ron glowered at her. She decided to make her excuses- she had, after all, promised to help Neville find his pet.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione had to push her way past a group of older students to find her way back to Pansy and Neville, and wasn’t looking where she was going when she ran straight into the same blond boy that she had seen in Diagon Alley. She frowned as he stepped back, a look of disgust on his face as he brushed off the front of his robes.

“Sorry- didn’t quite see you. Hi Malfoy.” Hermione greeted, hoping that he wouldn’t be as mean as he had been in the shop. It was to no avail though- he promptly sneered at her, curling his lip.

“Look Crabbe, Goyle.” He jeered. “It’s the muggleborn- see if you can spot her under that bushy mess she calls hair.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the twinge of hurt that ran through her at those words. She had her dad’s curls and darker skin- although she was a bit lighter than her dad because her mum and Aunt Sarah were so pale- and it was far from the first time someone had made a mean comment about her hair. She had just hoped that the wizarding world might be… different, in that regard.

She could always make herself feel better by imagining Malfoy seeing her Uncle J for the first time, though. The thought cheered her immensely- no one in the _world_ had crazier hair than him, and he would have sneered right back if Malfoy pointed it out. Probably set a few goblins on him, too.

Now _there_ was an idea.

“Hermione Granger.” She introduced herself to the other two boys, both of whom were significantly taller than her. Her mum _had_ made her promise to introduce herself whenever she had the chance, anyways, even if these boys were probably jerks right along with Malfoy. “Er- nice to meet you?” she held out her hand to the taller of the two boys, who looked confused, glancing down to Draco as though to ask whether or not he should take it. The other boy just glared at her.

“Don’t, Goyle.” Malfoy sniffed. “She’s just a dirty muggleborn.”

Hermione was briefly startled by the venom in his voice, but recovered quickly as anger washed over her.

“Well you’re just an inbred, high-strung, bastard!” Hermione spat, losing her temper at Malfoy’s tone. “I’m just trying to be nice, you _prick_!”

She stomped off, feeling only slightly better at having utilized some of the insults she had learned from her uncle over the years. Her mum might have disapproved, but at least she knew Uncle J would high-five her for taking them down.

She had the feeling that dealing with Draco Malfoy was going to involve a _lot_ of goblins.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was a bit wilted when she found Pansy and Neville again- Draco’s comments still swirling in her head. Pansy took one look down her nose at her and raised a brow. Neville didn’t seem to notice, but Hermione brightened a little when she realized that he was carrying a squirming amphibian in his arms.

“You found him!” She exclaimed, wrinkling her nose at the warty creature.

“He was up on one of the luggage racks!” Neville told her, sounding far more enthusiastic now that Trevor had been safely located. “Pansy bullied one of the fifth-years into grabbing him for us!”

The girl in question snorted, but the corner of her mouth quirked a bit.

They started to walk back to their compartment when a boy with darker skin like Hermione’s called out from one of the compartments.

“Pansy!” he waved, giving a grin that was toothy and wide. “Come sit with us! You can challenge Daph’s title of exploding snap champion!”

Hermione didn’t know if she was imagining it or not, but Pansy’s spine seemed to stiffen, and her expression became slightly haughtier. She looked at the girl with a bit of unease.

“Should we-“

“They’re just friends of my family.” Pansy sniffed. “I’ll catch up with you two later- they’ll annoy me half to death if I don’t make an appearance.”

Hermione noticed the slight nervousness around her eyes, but nodded nonetheless, leading Neville back and helping him secure Trevor in the little terrarium his gran had sent with him. Neville was really nice, but he was quieter than Pansy, and Hermione wondered when the other girl would come back. She wanted to finish their game from earlier.

By the time the train pulled into the platform at Hogsmeade, Pansy still hadn’t reappeared. Hermione followed Neville off the train, and gripped his hand tightly when the tallest man she’d ever seen began calling for first-years in a deep, booming voice. When Hermione managed to spot Pansy again and tried to wave, the other girl had turned away, talking to none other than Draco Malfoy.

Hermione tried not to focus on the hurt in her chest, and reminded herself to be brave, like the girls in the stories that Aunt Sarah would write. She held her head high, and held Neville’s hand, and didn’t hesitate for a second when the kind giant- Rubeus Hagrid, he had introduced himself- told them to hop in the boats and tapped them with his umbrella to make them move.

She looked down at the dark waters and wondered what kind of strange, fantastic creatures were swimming beneath the depths. The lights of the castle were like nothing she had even seen before, though, and for a second, Hermione’s sense of wonder overtook every fear and every doubt she had felt in the last couple of hours. She felt a tingle of excitement run through her body.

_She was here. This was real._

She couldn’t wait to see the inside.

  

* * *

 

 

The castle reminded her of the time her parents had taken her to Westminster Abbey- at least until she caught sight of the animated paintings and moving staircases. She found herself whispering frantic facts to Neville about Hogwarts that she remembered from reading as they moved, and ignored the odd look some of the others gave her. It calmed her nerves, after all. The castle felt a little chilly- she might have to ask her parents for a couple of pairs of woolen socks if it was already this cold in September.

Pansy spent most of the walk into the castle talking to Draco, and wouldn’t meet Hermione’s eyes whenever she tried to get the other girl’s attention. Hermione couldn’t tell what they were doing, but Pansy didn’t look thrilled with the arrangement, and Hermione wondered why she would spend so much time with Draco if she didn’t want to. Draco had been awful about it, but Pansy hadn’t seemed to care that Hermione’s parents weren’t magical- at least that’s what Hermione had thought.

Hermione bit her lip, suddenly more worried, before her thoughts were interrupted by the tartan-clad figure of Professor McGonagall, wearing a sharp pointed hat with an equally sharp expression. She could feel Neville shaking beside her, and squeezed his hand more tightly, turning to give him the most reassuring smile she could manage as the older woman explained the sorting process.

But then she opened the doors, and Hermione couldn’t help gawking with the rest of them as they followed the professor. She had read about the great hall, but even the most exciting of her books hadn’t done it justice.

“It’s enchanted to look like the sky outside!” Hermione whispered to Neville, who looked like he was trying not to throw up. “I read about it in _Hogwarts a History_!”

Come to think of it, Harry looked just as nervous as Neville, and Hermione noticed that people were whispering and pointing at him as the first-years entered. She felt a sudden stab of pity for him- Hermione was definitely relieved that no one was pointing and whispering at _her_.

 

* * *

 

The hat felt strange as Professor McGonagall lowered it onto her head, and it smelled vaguely like an antique store.

_Hm… quite a bit of interesting material here…_

Hermione nearly jumped to hear the voice _inside_ her head. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the sides of the stool, anxiously swinging her feet. She tried not to think about the entire hall watching her fidget, and failed miserably.

 _Who are you?_ She asked the hat, thinking the question inside of her head. If it was talking in her head, it stood to reason that she could talk back to it the same way, after all. _How do you sort us?_

It was strange to _feel_ the surprise of a hat, even as she sat in a magical hall with a thousand candles suspended in midair below a ceiling enchanted to show the weather.

 _Can’t say anyone’s ever asked who I was before._ She heard the hat tell her. _I was right though- you are interesting. Quite the background here and… oh._

It sounded surprised, and Hermione tried not to panic.

 _Oh what?_ She thought, nervously.

 _You know someone I haven’t seen in hundreds of years._ The hat seemed almost amused at this.

 _Who does that make you, then?_ Hermione thought, squeezing her eyes shut. It was more than a little disorienting to have another person in your head, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. And who was the hat talking about?

 _I’m a bit of each of the founders._ The hat told her. _They created me, put a bit of themselves in me so that I could sort out which children belonged in what houses after they were gone. No brain of my own- just a bit of theirs._

Hermione shuddered a bit. It reminded her vaguely of those movies about AI’s that people created, unthinkingly, but she didn’t sense any sort of malice from the hat. Just… thought. Just in case, though:

 _It’s nice to meet you._ She thought, another question springing to the forefront of her mind. _What do you do when you aren’t sorting us?_

 _So many questions._ The hat responded, absently. It didn’t seem annoyed, merely surprised. _They may have to wait, Miss Granger. Open your eyes- they’re wondering what’s taking so long up here._

Hermione obeyed him and blushed instantly as she watched the puzzled expressions of the entire student body staring at her.

 _Sorry._ She thought, trying to send as many contrite feelings to the hat as she could.

 _I haven’t seen anyone as interesting as you in a while._ The hat told her, sounding distinctly amused. It reminded her vaguely of Uncle J. _By all means, continue. But let’s see- loyal enough to be a Hufflepuff, but it isn’t right. You’re smart- smarter by far than many if your first thought is to question me, so Ravenclaw wouldn’t be a bad fit. I suspect you may be more than they can handle, though._

Hermione tried desperately not to fidget more in the chair. Ravenclaw didn’t sound bad- wit and learning would certainly be up her alley. She briefly wondered where Pansy and Neville were going to be. She hoped the hat would tell stupid Draco Malfoy that he wasn’t good enough to be sorted.

 _And then there’s that ruthless streak._ There was a strange sound, and Hermione suspected that the hat was _laughing_ at her _. It’s almost fey, really, the way you see things. Not really a surprise, all things considered._ Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of that. Sure, she liked fairy stories, but who didn’t?

_What do you mean?_

_Clever as the brightest Ravenclaw, but as cunning and ambitious as any Slytherin._ The hat continued, ignoring her question. _But there’s something else there, and I think it may outshine everything else. Loyal, ambitious, and clever you may be, but there’s a streak of boldness in you that I wouldn’t want to challenge. This should be interesting- I think you’ll excel in… **GRYFFINDOR!**_

Hermione stood on shaking legs as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from her head. The Gryffindor table was cheering, with several redheads leading a rousing chorus of a song Hermione didn’t know. She gave a nervous smile, nonetheless, and went to go sit down near the blonde girl that had been sorted earlier- Lavender Brown? She hoped they could be friends.

She was so caught up in not tripping over her own feet that she missed the curl of Draco Malfoy’s lip, and the way Pansy Parkinson looked down for a moment- almost as though she was upset.

  

* * *

 

 

“How do you think Hermione’s holding up?” Sarah asked, absently lifting Skeep off of her desk as he gave an indignant squawk. She tossed him gently into a pile of laundry and he whooped with glee as a smirking goblin king watched.

“Hopefully causing all sorts of trouble for those stuffed shirts.” Jareth answered, amusedly blowing air at several of the goblins as he sat on the ceiling, upside-down, cross-legged, and directly above Sarah’s desk. She stepped forward, flicking his nose, and he grinned.

“Let her be.” Sarah halfheartedly scolded. “She’s nervous enough already without having to worry how you feel about wizards.”

“Precious thing, our Hermione is far smarter than people give her credit for.” Jareth pointed out, a lazy grin alighting on his face. “She’ll discover how wizards treat our subjects soon enough.”

“Give her at least this year to get used to their world.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s _eleven_ \- you don’t need to immediately involve her in whatever grudge you have against their headmaster.”

The goblin king gave his wife what could only be described as a pout. She flicked his nose again, and he flipped in midair to land on his feet once more, as graceful as any cat.

“It isn’t _all_ wizards I dislike.” He protested. “Minerva McGonagall is quite something- her approach to magic actually reminds me of my own.”

“Because of course you’re the gold standard.” Sarah teased, standing on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Of course.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her fully.

“Stop distracting me.” Sarah scolded, sitting down in her chair to presumably try and get some work done. “Hermione said something about houses- that they sort the kids into different groups or something?”

“Mmhm.” Jareth nodded. “Four of them- they’ve been doing it since the school began- it’s all determined by personality. Rather silly thing, really, considering their age.”

“That _is_ strange.” Sarah agreed. “Do you know how they do it? Sort them, that is?”

“Well it’s supposed to be very secretive.” Jareth raised his eyebrows. “They’re terribly hush-hush about the whole affair.”

Sarah raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I’m assuming that means you made it your personal business to find out?” she snorted. “You’re a horribly nosy man for a king, you know.”

“I’m a horribly _curious_ man.” Jareth smirked.

“You and Hermione both.” Sarah agreed, laughing. “Do you think she’ll fit in? Get along with her classmates, all that?”

“She’ll be fine, precious.” Jareth assured her. Sarah’s distraction was palpable, and Jareth knew full well that she only got that way when she was nervous or anxious about something. “She’s a force of nature, our girl.”

“I just want her to have a good time in school.” Sarah confessed, biting her lip. “For her sake, and for Ellie’s.” She met Jareth’s eyes. “She and Rick worry- they want to do the right thing for her, but it’s hard to figure out what that is when your main option involves sending your kid to a wizard school that you can’t even _see_.”

“Elain and Richard are hardly new to magic.” Jareth pointed out.

“I know-“ Sarah groaned, slapping a hand over her eyes, “I just want it to go well for all of them.”

“Well I did tell Hermione that she was welcome to call on the goblins as she saw fit.” Jareth shrugged, flipping absently through one of the marked-up screenplays on Sarah’s desk.

There was a beat of silence.

“You did _what?_ ”

“They’ll follow her anyways.” Jareth pointed out with a sly grin. “Besides, there’s no harm in having a little fun at school.” Sarah was grinning back at him now, a devious look in her eyes.

“Jareth?” She sang sweetly.

“Precious?” he drawled, turning his head to grin at her.

“If Hermione gets in trouble at wizard school because of the goblins, I’m telling Elain that it was all your fault.”

Jareth paled at the thought of his sister-in-law’s anger.

“Let’s not be hasty there, precious thing…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, folks. Life’s been busy, and I have a nasty habit of writing out of order. So I actually have a lot planned for the later years at Hogwarts, but we have to get there first. I love this story though, and I love this concept, and I have no intention of ever abandoning it. I’ve been moving and trying to work out some job stuff, and this week in particular has been nuts- I had to help one sister evacuate from Hurricane Dorian, and the other one came back from where she lives abroad to visit- so it’s been super fun, but I have been BUSY. This chapter’s a little longer than previous ones, but I didn’t think anyone would mind much. 
> 
> Pansy and Hermione have bossy girl energy in common so wouldn’t it be interesting if they were friends? I think this Hermione is fundamentally a bit different due to her upbringing and the influences of Sarah and Jareth, so she’s making different choices. Also, I’m pretty sure giving someone a sparkly gel pen in the 90’s automatically made you best friends- that’s how I remember it working, anyways. (Plus, MASH is a universal equalizer) Hermione is a bit kinder here because she is trying SO hard to be on her best behavior here, but I think we’ll see more of the blunt, ruthless Hermione that we know and love as we go on.
> 
> The sorting hat sequence was fun to write- Sarah really emphasized the importance of politeness to Hermione (a result of spending time among fae and her labyrinth run), and she also probably frequently told little Hermione not to underestimate anything. Hermione doesn’t know how human the sorting hat is, and so she tries to be as polite as possible, while also being very curious. And who do you think the sorting hat knows? ;)
> 
> Draco’s a bit nastier right out of the gate, in large part because Hermione’s response really challenged him, which I would imagine has never happened before. Don’t worry, he won’t be the worst forever, but he has a LOT of growing to do before he’s worthy of our Hermione. He’s going to have to learn not to be a prejudiced little shit the hard way, I think.
> 
> Also, the implication that Jareth is more afraid of Elain Granger’s wrath than a school full of powerful witches and wizards is a hilarious concept to me. Elain is a badass- Hermione had to get it from somewhere... :)
> 
> Thank you so much for all your kind comments- I love that y’all love this concept as much as I do, and I adore reading every one of them. Thanks to everyone who left a comment, subscribed, bookmarked, left kudos, all that fantastic stuff. You guys are awesome, and hearing how much you enjoy this really lights a fire under me. Next time, we’ll see how Hermione is doing in her first few weeks of school, and take a look at how Sarah and Jareth talked about magic to Hermione when she was growing up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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